Stutterin' givin' 'em rest and makin' love againIn my best I be the run againAnd I have the man dem stutterin'

I'm getting this nigga in the morningHe gon' think he been chiefin' just too long whenHe see me in the evenin'Want to catch all these feelin'Well let me be the first to get mine

Ay yo, ay yo, barbeque and blow in the back of the cribSittin’ and countin’, smoking a spliff, this shit’s a giftAll my niggas watches is roughGrabbing our crotches yelling ‘’What up?’’The jeans cost 500 fuckStop it, keep baking, see the smell it’s a statementOne freeze of this shit, you won’t feel your legs kidI’m a gangsta corporate hustla, my voice is illustriousHounded by vicious dons, nigga we armed, trust me bruhThey yellin' Chef, kill the plate with the cooksI say 'Ye with 2 Chainz on, we Common, let's PushBurn another bush, then burn another we brothersLove us or not, the Mark Zuckerbergs of the blockHug a knot, staying rich, we was built for the guapPark the green six deuce on the deuce just propsRock a kilt, mean Glock I’m all machinery, 'ockCling to me, now see how the scenery rock yo

I'm getting this nigga in the morningHe gon' think he been chiefin' just too long whenHe see me in the evenin'Want to catch all these feelin'Well let me be the first to get mine oh

I was born by a lake, chicken shack, and a churchThat mean the flow got wings and it come from the dirtGolly, I know she wanna test the ‘RariEye on a dollar like IlluminatiLife is foggy, tryin’ to see through the mist of itCould have been livin’ it, you was Mrs. MischievousThis is just a letter to, better your development,Situation delicate

Some claim God body, blame IlluminatiAll 'cause his pockets now knotty as his hair, yeah All Sonny no Cher, only solitairesYou cluster fucks could cluster upOn tippy-toe and still not muster up so its (Ashes to ashes, dust to dust)In God we trust, the game is all usTil’ the sky calls or its flames on us, Push'!

I'm getting this nigga in the morningHe gon' think he been chiefin' just too long whenHe see me in the evenin'Want to catch all these feelin'Well let me be the first to get mine

2 Chainz, I’m chillin’ in my camo, flippin’ through the channelOn my G.O.O.D. Music shit, my logo’s a Lambo (damn)Four doors of ammo,Ammunition I’m pitchin’ to make your body, switch another position

I hope the people is listening,I could never sell my soul, I gave it back to God at my christeningIts tickelin’ when I hear what haters be whisperin’What makes you think an Illuminati would ever let some niggas in? Huh,Fake friends and siblings, like to wish you well but ain’t never flip the nickel inHaters wanna pull they pistol when they see me in this race carBut you can’t spell war without an A-R15 I was pushing carts at K-MartBy 21 they said I’d be inside a graveyardCan’t wait to get that black American ExpressSo I can show them white folks how to really pull the race card

Yeah, you feelin’ on top now, getting that money nigga? (You sold your soul)Yeah, you feelin’ on top now, getting that money nigga? (You sold your soul)Yeah, you feelin’ on top now, getting that money nigga?(Naw man, mad people was frontin’ aw man, made something from nothing)

I treat the label like money from my showsG.O.O.D. would’ve been God except I added more O'sIf I knew she was cheatin’ I’d still’ve bought her more clothes‘Cause I was too busy with my Baltimore-you knowSome people call that the art of war you knowI guess it depends what you fallin’ for, the clothes,Cars, money, girls and the clothesAw money, you sold your soulNah man, mad people was frontin’God damn, we made something from nothing